


Shine a Ray of Light

by leominoris



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Alternate Universe-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Ghoul Jaemin, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, human renjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leominoris/pseuds/leominoris
Summary: "Good morning, Jaemin."Jaemin remembers this tone. It's the same one Renjun also used on him that night, holding him through the guilt and hunger cramps, crying with him, promising they'd find a way. Back then Jaemin hadn't believed him.Ghouls and humans couldn't coexist, not when the ghouls' survival depended on the ability to feed on humans.—Some happy endings are worth fighting for.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonfleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/gifts).



> Written for a thank you giveaway I held when I hit a follower milestone on my old Twitter account.  
> Dear Nee, thank you for your patience with me! Sorry it took me so long ´v`"
> 
> I know I've written Tokyo Ghoul Renmin before already so to avoid any confusion, my previous fic [And I Hunger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385753) and this fic are completely independent of each other! See them as parallel universes to each other, if you'd like!
> 
> Also, assume if you clicked on this fic you're aware of the themes Tokyo Ghoul touches on but I'll mention it just to be safe, this fic is centred around a ghoul/human romance and as such, the whole "dang it maybe I want to eat my boyfriend" issue comes up! If you're uncomfortable with the topic please don't read!
> 
> The title is part of a line borrowed from the second Tokyo Ghoul:re opening, katharsis!

Jaemin wakes to the smell of coffee wafting through the air. Renjun's half of the bed still feels warm when he reaches out, sleepy fingers tracing loose, seeking lines across the mattress. Somewhere nearby, probably hidden underneath a discarded hoodie or pair of trousers, a phone alarm is beeping faintly, urging him to get up.

It's looking cold and dreary out, especially for Valentine's Day. The snow rarely ever really sticks in the city but today it blankets the streets with a thin layer of powdery white. Renjun has dressed according to the chill when Jaemin pads over into the kitchen nook—they only have one electric heater for the time being and it's reserved for their bedroom space. Plus, the kitchen window probably needs to be replaced, Jaemin could swear it's always drafty in there. It's nothing if not honest to call their flat a little run-down but real estate in Seoul is expensive, the place is well-situated as far as most human necessities go and most of all, it's unassuming enough not to be subject to frequent CCG checks.

From the back, the layers of fabric give Renjun's shoulders a breadth they usually don't have, accentuated by the way he's standing hunched over the stove surveying a coffee pot and what must be his own breakfast.

"You spoil me," Jaemin purrs, sifting through their clothes in search of the errant beeping phone before gracelessly dropping onto one of their two rickety bar stools. Like most of their furniture, they're reclaimed and sport an unmistakable colourful touch—a mixture of Renjun's careful handiwork and Jaemin's much less trained but just as enthusiastic brush strokes. In fact, he remembers scouring the thrift shops in this part of the city for them just about one year ago. They'd spent Valentine's Day sitting on the newspaper-covered floor of their living room, mugs of hot tea in an arm's reach getting acrylic paint all over each other's faces and clothes.

Today, however, they're both working. It's a worthy sacrifice too, the next thing on their long list of things to eventually buy is a bedframe so they can upgrade from sharing a mattress on the floor of the far end of their studio apartment. Maybe White Day is going to be on a weekend. They could spend it painting their bed.

"Good morning to you too," Renjun greets without looking up from the skillet on the stove. Jaemin cranes his neck and spots a nest of scallions and imitation crab meat holding an egg sizzling away. It looks fancy and if he were human, he gathers his mouth would probably start watering. "Good morning, Huang Renjun, love of my life and apple of my eye," he retorts. His tone drips with exaggerated sweetness but beneath all of that, they both know the words to be true.

The thing is: if the world gives you someone who will love you so unconditionally even when society as a whole has branded the likes of you as monsters you hold onto it. Jaemin hadn't initially meant to _date_ Renjun, of all the things. They'd met in university and most of all, a boy far away from home struggling to keep himself afloat while studying had sounded like excellent dinner. At the time, Renjun had been fairly isolated, barely talking to anyone in their shared classes and usually wandering campus on his own. No one would miss him, Jaemin had wagered. Looking back, it's a thought he resents. The loss of a life always leaves behind a tear in the fabric of the world.

Back then, however, he'd been too desperate for ethics. Playing student meant ingesting human food in front of the friends he made only to retch it back up during breaks and having to find a balance between his studies and spending the evenings out hunting to sate the hunger days of fasting left behind. It's also when he first started dabbling in mask-making, unhappy with the selection of commercially available rabbit ones. Student Jaemin would probably laugh at him now if told that a few years later he'd be sharing his life with the same boy he had designated the first proper meal of his second semester at university and crafting masks for a living.

Renjun turns just enough to throw him a benevolent smile over his shoulder. It's enough to prompt Jaemin to get back up and walk around the counter until he can wrap himself around his boyfriend. Renjun smells almost irresistible, sweet and rich in a way that almost perfectly complements the coffee. Jaemin hasn't been hungry enough to give in to the temptation of his scent though, not in years, but it still prompts him to press his face against his warm neck.

"Good morning, Jaemin."

Jaemin remembers this tone. It's the same one Renjun also used on him that night, holding him through the guilt and hunger cramps, crying with him, promising they'd find a way. Back then Jaemin hadn't believed him. Ghouls and humans couldn't coexist, not when the ghouls' survival depended on the ability to feed on humans. Still, next morning they'd turned on Renjun's VPN and started scouring every ghoul support web page Jaemin knew of—and from there, every web page suggested as a trustworthy resource. This was what, in the end, had led them to Qian Kun and his home for wayward ghouls.

Jaemin never asked Kun how he's able to run his feeding parlour, though Yangyang, who helps around the home with just about anything that needs fixing, claims it's thanks to connections to the city morgue. Jaemin prefers not to dwell on it or he'll voice his thoughts with Renjun sooner or later. He knows his boyfriend would listen but there are some things he'd rather spare him of, even if he presumes that Renjun has his own theories on that matter.

"How long are you working today?" Jaemin asks, voice muffled by Renjun's skin. "I can pick you up afterwards." Doubtlessly, they're going to meet up for lunch before that too but today's Valentine's Day, they're allowed to be attached at the hip, right? The art therapy practice Renjun works at is maybe fifteen minutes away from Jaemin's own studio and although it is situated in the opposite direction of their flat he shows up frequently enough after work for Renjun's little patients and their parents to already know him by name. On some days he helps to clean up the space, washing brushes and making sure the carpeted floors are free of the thumbtacks used to pin the large swaths of paper against the walls.

"Five, I think," Renjun mutters absent-mindedly. Most of his focus right now goes to flipping his scallion-crab-pancake. "But I was thinking we could order in and stay a little longer. Ten isn't working this afternoon, we'd have the practice to ourselves." Oh. Jaemin feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips and he drops a kiss against his boyfriend's jugular. On the rarer occasions they aren't exhausted after a long day's work Renjun sometimes arranges for them to spend the evenings in painting. Some days Jaemin brings work from his own studio over and works on a mask while Renjun paints, sometimes they both pick up paints and brushes and sometimes, when they're one hundred percent sure no one is going to walk in on them, Jaemin sheds his clothes and Renjun brings out his set of body paints.

The pictures of these sessions all rest safely stored in a memory card, hidden away from prying eyes—not because Jaemin is half (or entirely) naked for them but because many of them also involve his kagune.

The first time Renjun had asked him he'd balked, kagune existed for the purpose of hunting and killing and the thought of letting his boyfriend anywhere near them frightens Jaemin. Accidents happen far too easily and, frankly, he thought them ugly. Jaemin's cells that produce and control the organ, including the ability to form and disintegrate it at will, belong to the Rinkaku type and manifest in a ring of tendrils sprouting from the small of his back. They lack the shiny, armoured beauty his best friend Jeno's kagune have and they're not as pretty, feathered and vibrant as Yangyang's and while Jaemin usually isn't falsely modest and comfortable with acknowledging how handsome he is this particular part of him has always struck him as gross.

Renjun, however, had reached out as a first instinct, eyes wide with fascination. He'd only remembered to ask if he could touch at all when his fingers had already hovered over the softly pulsating appendages, his voice gentle and reverent. _Like liquid rubies_ , that's how he'd described them. _Like the sunset_ , _like the prettiest apples in the orchard_ , every beautiful description Renjun had been able to think of, he'd voiced it. Jaemin isn't a crier, not in the least, but that night he'd curled into Renjun's chest and sobbed—in shame, in relief. Having the boy he loves tell him the ugliest, most monstrous part of him is beautiful in a way that left no room for doubt was overwhelming.

The next time Renjun had asked if he could try painting patterns onto Jaemin's kagune as well. "They're beautiful on their own but maybe there's a way to integrate them into the back piece i was thinking of doing," he'd explained. The experience had been otherworldly, both intimate in a way that had left Jaemin feeling like his chest had been cracked wide open and left for Renjun to survey and– well. He'd be lying if he claimed it hadn't also ended with them falling into bed the moment they'd gotten home, losing themselves to the other's touch.

The work Renjun has done on Jaemin's kagune is beautiful and part of it is it's ephemeral nature: every time, once they're done Renjun wipes it all off with a soft cloth and warm water. Even though his body paints are non-toxic, they're formulated for use on human skin, not to be absorbed into a ghoul's body as Jaemin retracts his claws. That makes the fact that it can't ever be shared with a wider audience even more frustrating; Jaemin loves it with a burning passion and wishes everyone could see Renjun's attention to detail, the fruit of his hard work teaching himself how to paint growing up, the way he makes Jaemin look beautiful in ways he'd never thought possible.

But they can't. Putting the pictures out there will inadvertently put a target on Jaemin's head. The CCG won't care about how he hasn't eaten a fresh human in half a decade, it won't care about how he's been living with Renjun for just as long, seeing him as an equal and a partner, not a toy kept for later consumption. The CCG won't care that Renjun loves him either. All that will matter is that Jaemin isn't human and that other ghouls have killed—that he has killed in the past, nevermind the work he's been doing to atone for the lives he's taken.

So Renjun's art remains hidden, only accessible through the screen of Jaemin's DSLR even though he wishes he could print it on canvas and have it be displayed at a gallery.

"That sounds great," Jaemin whispers. He thinks he deserves praise for how patiently he waits for Renjun to turn off the gas and move away from the stove before he kisses his boyfriend.

"I'd like that a lot."


	2. BONUS: Midday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny knew what he was signing up for when he fell in love with Yuta.  
> All that's left to do is have faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus mini-chapter! Nee initially gave me the prompt for either domestic Renmin or Johnyu and my brain asked: "why not both?"

"Today was supposed to be your day off," Johnny complains from behind the coffee machine as he watches Yuta pick up his coat from behind the counter. The café is still calm, though with lunch break right around the corner it won't stay that way for long.

Yuta presses a hurried kiss to his cheek. "I know. But Taeyong and I have been working on this case for weeks now. This could be our breakthrough." His toothy smile is apologetic in a way that is hard to deny. Johnny sighs and moves away from the bar equipment to take a sandwich from the display case, wrapping it tightly in cling film. "Free food?" Yuta muses. From the way he makes grabby hands at it he's not going to second-guess it. "Can't let my boyfriend go hungry," Johnny argues with a good-natured smile and leans down to kiss him, this time on the lips. They're not always this affectionate in public but then again, with no one but them in the café at the moment there could be an argument made for how the space is private right now.

"Now go keep the city safe. Tell any rogue ghouls you meet that I resent them for taking you from me on Valentine's Day, of all days." "Will do. I'll keep you updated but don't wait up, yeah?" A flicker of sadness ghosts over Johnny's face. Yuta's return is never really guaranteed and as such, this one request has been one he's been making ever since they started dating. _Don't wait up, just in case I don't come home at all_. It comes with the territory of being a ghoul investigator, Johnny knew that when they decided to pursue their relationship. Still, it's never a thought he likes to entertain.

He's about to reply when the shop doorbell jingles. Both his and Yuta's heads turn as they watch a young couple enter; two young men bundled up with snow starting to melt on their hair and eyelashes. Even from where he stands behind the counter Johnny can see the way their gloved fingers are intertwined, the shorter one seemingly in the middle of an explanation. His boyfriend, taller, and now that he's removing his scarf Johnny recognizes him as the grinning boy with the most horrifying coffee order ever who started visiting a few weeks ago, has the look of a lovestruck man on his face.

Next to him Johnny catches Yuta smiling faintly. It's for people like them, ordinary and peaceful, that Yuta keeps putting himself into danger at all. Johnny knows he enjoys the adrenaline of his line of work but most of all his boyfriend cares—about Seoul, about its people, even about its ghouls. Fewer violent ghouls mean less panic and, more willingness to communicate and maybe the eventual chance to find peace.

The taller half of the customer couple is the one to step up to the counter, a friendly, broad grin on his handsome face. Yuta takes it as his cue to leave. "See you tonight," he whispers into Johnny's ear and slips away. The flurry of snow outside devours him before the café door has fully fallen shut.

And so Johnny puts on his best smile and chooses to hope and have faith. Yuta will be back. There will be a tomorrow for them, and a next week, a next month, a next year. And maybe in ten years, who knows, humans and ghouls alike will visit his shop and share a pot of coffee over the knowledge that they've overcome the seemingly impossible. It's a tall order and right now, it might seem almost distastefully optimistic. Still, Johnny chooses to believe.

He greets his customer with a wave. The boy returns the gesture, the sharpness of his smile giving the expression a roguish charm. In a corner by the window his partner sits, leafing through Johnny's favourite collection of photographs.

"Hi! What can I help you with?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( [twt](http://twitter.com/perseidbunny) | [cc](http://curiouscat.qa) )

**Author's Note:**

> ( [twt](http://twitter.com/perseidbunny) | [cc](http://curiouscat.qa/perseidbunny) )


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